


Unless You'd Rather Stay

by inkstainedwretch



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/inkstainedwretch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I just finished season 1 and had to get this out of my system. Unapologetic PWP written entirely in one sitting. Ready, go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unless You'd Rather Stay

Jack had never been overly fond of champagne, but in Phryne Fisher's parlor, the bubbles on his tongue felt positively magical. Across from him, the woman in question was smiling at him with bright eyes. The rich silk of her dress shimmered under the light, and the rim of her own champagne glass - now empty - bore a bright red kiss mark.

"What's that look about?" He asked. "I know you haven't got a case. Not unless someone's been murdered between dinner and dessert."

"I rather hope not," she replied with amusement. "Apprehending criminals is certainly diverting, but there's something to be said for a quiet evening in."

"Agreed," he finished his glass and glanced at the clock. "It's getting late."

"Is it? I hardly noticed."

"Well, I did. I should be getting home."

Neither of them moved.

"Early shift tomorrow?" Her eyebrows lifted a bit. She knew he was off tomorrow; he'd _told_ her he was off tomorrow. By now, he recognized his chance to bow out for what it was. This wasn't the first time they'd played this game. 

Her eyes were still bright, still full of mischief, but they were honest. She was more than happy to tease him, but she wouldn't hurt him.

"No," he shook his head. "Actually, I'm off tomorrow, but it's late. I should head home."

They still hadn't moved. She waited a long moment, looking him square in the eye, before breaking the silence.

"Of course," she said softly, "unless you'd rather stay."

There was another long, long moment, heavy with the sound of a bell that couldn't be un-rung. Eventually, he set his glass down.

"I'd like that."

She rose, silk falling in bejeweled waves, and he was less than a second behind her. They stood eye to eye, and slowly she set a hand on his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet. For all the time it had taken them to get here, there was no need to hurry. He felt her hum softly in relief.

"I wasn't sure if you'd ever be ready," she admitted, "but I was willing to wait."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. What had he done to deserve this?

"I'm ready now."

She stood on her toes and kissed him again, and again, like she'd never tire of it.

"Follow me upstairs?" she whispered.

He nodded, and she took his hand and led him out of the parlor. The stairs seemed so much harder than usual to navigate, the hallway far too narrow. Somehow, they made it into her bedroom alive, and when the lock clicked shut behind them they couldn't undress quickly enough. Underneath the silk dress, Phryne's skin was even softer. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and she gave him a gentle push onto the bed. 

There was no question that Sarcelle had been a master of his craft, but nothing could match the sight of her now, stretching herself out over the sheets. She was a vision of pale skin and dark hair, the lines around her eyes and mouth soft in the lamplight. He slid up to meet her, pressing a kiss to the corner of her neck. She tilted her head up, turning towards him and inviting him to explore. His hand found the side of her breast and kneaded gently, and he adored the sound she made. He moved his mouth there next, laying worshipful kisses upon her skin. His hand continued down, over the crest of her hip and inward, until his fingers moved through the curls below.

She gasped. He found what he was looking for, circled her bud with his fingertip, and she gasped again. He kissed his way slowly up her neck, keeping his hand moving and listening to the way she keened and whimpered under him. She carded her fingers in his hair and pulled him up into a burning kiss, and her other hand began to slide down his chest. He broke away and shook his head. True, he was _achingly_ hard, but if she touched him now, they'd be done before they even got started.

"Not yet," he murmured. Her hand moved back up and she clung to him. Her nails pressed insistently into his back.

He felt her hips begin to jerk upward, and her eyes squeezed shut. He shifted a little, the angle of his arm changed, and her hand snapped down to grab at his wrist.

"There," she hissed. "Right there."

He didn't need to be told twice. He pressed down, rubbing small circles over the spot just above her clit, right where she wanted. Her breathing quickened, and the hand in his hair tightened enough to hurt.

"Jack!" She shouted, as though she had something she needed to tell him right that instant. "Oh god, _Jack_ -" 

Her mouth flew open, but nothing came out. She began to shake violently underneath him, and her head snapped back against the pillow. He didn't stop moving his hand for an instant until she let go of his wrist and collapsed. When she'd caught her breath, her eyes opened again and she sat up, sliding her arms over his shoulders.

"Not bad," she purred, "for a warmup, at least."

Before he could reply, she half-threw him down onto his back and climbed on top of him. She lifted his length up from where it rested on his stomach, giving it a couple of lazy strokes and enjoying the feel of it in her hand. The sound he made was low and rumbling and hungry. 

She raised herself up on her knees and slowly, punishingly slowly, lowered herself down onto him. When their hips met, she inhaled deeply and hummed with delight. His hands came up to hold her by the hips, and the smile she gave him was surprisingly tender. She leaned forward and began to rock, slowly at first, then faster when his hands gripped her more impatiently. She bit her lip and moaned softly at the feeling of him moving inside her.

Jack drunk in the sight of her moving above him, the feeling of her wet heat around him. Even with her hair mussed and her lipstick half gone, she was still the masterfully confident woman he could never seem to catch up with. She leaned down and kissed him again, taking his lower lip between her teeth and raking her nails down his chest. He groaned aloud at that, but he'd be lying if he tried to tell himself he didn't love the gleam in her eyes.

She pushed away but kept her hands on his chest, both to hold him down and to hold herself up. She ground down against him, and her eyes slipped shut again. He nearly let go of her hips, but she moved his hand back. He tried holding her tighter instead, and the way she moaned in response told him it was the right decision. It didn't take as long this time until she was clenching down around him, digging her nails into his skin with a shout. God, she was beautiful.

He brought her back down to him and turned them over, and she wrapped her legs around him. She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him hotly, unable to get enough of him. He drove into her, hard enough to shake the bed. Her teeth sank into his shoulder, and that was it. He cried out against her skin and spent himself inside her, holding her as close as he possibly could. 

They lay like that for a minute or two, until he lifted himself up and took a good look at her. She had the look of a woman who wanted for nothing, and there was still a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

"I think you've got one more in you," he said softly.

"Maybe," she caressed his cheek lazily. "Do you think you and your talented fingers could find it?"

"Maybe," he replied, "with a little help."

He moved up and had her follow, rearranging pillows and sheets until she leaned nearly upright against the headboard. He moved forward slowly, kissing his way up the inside of her thighs, enjoying the way each kiss made her jump. He slid his fingers inside her, making sure to keep his palm low so there was room for his mouth. His tongue laved up the underside of her clit, and she gave a shuddering sigh. Her hand slid through his hair again, and he imitated with his tongue what his hand had done before, circling around and flicking at her lightly.

She lifted her hips up and tried to press against him, so he slid back a bit and replaced his tongue with the thumb of his other hand. Pressure was what she wanted, and he gave her exactly that. Inside her, his fingers curled and curled. Her back began to arch upward, tense and trembling as a bow. He pressed down with his thumb until she gave a tremendous cry and clenched rhythmically around his fingers. Her hands fisted tightly in the sheets, and she stayed frozen like that for a small eternity before she fell back down onto the pillows. 

He moved back up, and she reached up for him, but he hesitated, unsure if she would appreciate how he currently tasted.

"I don't know if-" he began.

"Oh, don't be absurd," she sighed, kissing him hungrily as though they were still in the parlor drinking champagne. 

Before sleep could threaten to overtake them, he pulled back.

"I think we should clean up."

"I think so too," she sighed happily, "but if you think I can move after that, you're mad."

 


End file.
